Once upon a time...

Once upon a time I was a three year old who'd bite her loving older brother for no reason.  Once I bit so hard it broke skin;  my mother thought it got infected.  Once on a home video, I was three unwrapping a mountain of presents and then walking around the tree to find more presents; there were no more; I threw a tantrum; I was greedy.  Once upon a time when I was 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8,  I displayed overly sexual interests and did more than play doctor with my friends; I am ashamed.   Once upon a time when I was 4 I used to get constant stomach aches; the tests showed nothing, it was all in my head I guess.  Once upon a time when I was about 6 or 7 my dad spanked me so hard it left a hand print and when my mother was washing me and saw it she made him come up and see it;  she screamed at him, she yelled;  I just sat in the bathtub.  Once upon a time I remember being threatened with a belt.  Once upon a time I nearly failed grade two;  I don't know why, it was just a bad year I guess.  Once upon a time I was simply a very bad child.   

To ease ones' thoughts.

Perhaps I have started writing so much because I have so much I am angry about; so much to say.  There were plenty of times where, I guess you could say, I was worse off or in a more horrible state of mind; yet most problems, and anger, issues and frustrations get absorbed by my skin, and veins and hair and settle there and pile up one by one on top until I feel I must write some of it out before they start to overflow and seep from the pores of my being; before they make me a gooey mess (and I am unsure if I have not started becoming sticky and seeping from them yet).  I must write to ease my thoughts and put my soul a bit at ease for I have not my paintbrushes or canvas or paper or etching utensils to create; I haven't created anything in so long. No clothing's sewn, no pictures drawn, no thoughts painted and no human figures etched onto the flawless surfaces of plexiglass; writing is all I have time for between my studies and work, but at the very least I still have it.


[For mother]

One day you will look at me
And you will finally see me
Shaking you'll reach out and realize
That I am not yours. 
That shouldn't surprise you
You knew long ago I wasn't yours
You made that clear through your words
Your actions.
Why couldn't you come to love your daughter?
What was so wrong with the girl who just wanted to be loved?
Were you jealous of the attention your little girl got from men who'd see her on the streets,
From men in church, from men who would say "no, if it's for you it's free"
As they handed her that toy, that decorated wooden easter egg, that lollipop.
Why couldn't you love that little girl?
Why couldn't you love me?
I still love you
Even if you can never love me back.

- A.J.

can everyone stop pointing out how tired I look all the time?

Yes I know I look tired; I AM tired.  I've been working 22 - 33 hours each week for the last 4 weeks; I've had 4 term papers to write; I have exams to study for; I have exams to write.  Obviously I look tired.  I know that.  You also do not need to point out my bags are pretty bad and that I look extremely tired, not just tired, and that around my eyes are red.  I get it;  I look like shit; I look like a fuckin' zombie, please stop.  You telling me how tired I look will not magically make me look not tired all of a sudden; it will not magically create more time in the day time so I can get more hours of sleep; it will not make my exams disappear.

I needed to vent - so many things are stressing me out and giving me anxiety and just generally making things bad so like always I vent about the smallest thing, but it helps calm me down a bit.  I did stand with my feet halfway across the line at the metro; about a step away from the edge and there were a lot of people; an accidental bump or push. I couldn't do it, but there was this small rush flowing through me, like what if I did take that extra step? But the subway came from the other end and so by the time it reached my end it was practically stopped and I was disappointed.  What a pity I didn't die.

This is all driving me over the edge and I just want to cut up my thighs again.  Open me up and let me break; die, cry, pathetic like I am.

I hate myself. I know I have written this many times before, but I just hate myself so much.

Stares and down 8lbs

so I dropped about 8lbs (mostly water weight I think, but whatever).  It wasn't that I was necessarily restricting, just sometimes I have no money and like I didn't have anything to eat except ketchup and rice for the last 3 days or so and I wanted to cry.  It's funny how much easier it is to starve yourself when you know you have food/money for food, yet when you're broke with absolutely no way of getting food (well except for the rice I had) it's a totally different story and you just feel almost as if you're a lesser person, yet when I starve myself when I do have food I feel like 'more' of a person. 
My monthly tax thing of $22 came in today so I went out an bought pizza pops (cheese kind), minigos, pop tarts and black cherry ice cream; had half a cup of the ice cream, 2 minigos, half a pop tart and a pizza pop.  About a minute after I finished I felt so sick and I had to throw up; most of it came out.  I think I'm going to go back to being a vegan; have been a lacto vegetarian for a month now and the food I choose is worse and makes me feel sicker and I believe my body is having trouble digesting all the  fats and sugars.  

Anyways I found a new place for May :] it is small, but cute, tidy and there's a washer and dryer in our apartment.  Plus it's near a river and the Saint-Laurent river and has a bunch of bike paths and whatnot; going to start jogging and cycling a few times a week once I move in (plus it gets super bright out by 6 20 am now).  

The river near my new apartment ♥ 

Didn't post this in my previous post, but basically when I told the people at my work I wanted to dye my hair black (which I did 2 years ago and it looked fantastic) their responses were all similar:

"You're too pale for black hair."

"Black hair will make you look paler and sicker looking."

"You're pale and it wouldn't be too bad if you were just pale, but you look tired all the time."

"You'd look really sickly if you died your hair black." 

"It's just that you have tiredness written all over your face."

"You're pale, you look tired and like the outside of your eyes are red from tiredness and you can see some of the veins around your eyes; black hair would only bring that out and make you look ill." 

"You're pale, but like yellow so black wouldn't look good." 

Thanks.  This was last Saturday and on the Sunday my manager sees me and says (and I quote):

"You look REALLY tired. Are you ok?" 

Do I look so tired that I look not okay?   Do I look so tired I look ill/hungover/ not okay?

Whatever I always have a smile on my face and that's important.  

Not sure if it's clear in the pictures, but my winter/fall coat that was super snug on me last year is pretty loose on me now :] ♥

blaaaah blaah blaaah I should shut up.

I have been feeling suicidal almost constantly/daily for the last two weeks or so it is horrible and I just want to cry and heave all these feelings out of me. I want to throw up this hurt, cut out this shame and forget these thoughts.  I hate myself. I hate myself.  I hate myself and that makes me sad. 

I went bowling with my work after work today; only stayed for one game, it was fun, but I got extremely sad and lonely for some reason.  Also finally decided I'm getting my thigh tattoo, either in two weeks or three; either a quote by Edvard Munch or Virginia Woolf; cannot yet decide.

blah.

so I never updated about my trip to the er, but it's been a week and I don't feel like getting into it.  It was nothing exciting, or new or extraordinary.  It was blah. The only thing I'll share is that the triage nurse took my pulse, looked at the machine and took my pulse by hand cause she wasn't sure the machine was working cause you know a reasting heart beating 133a minute is not exactly normal in a young female.

I've been very stressed out with all my essays and I still can't believe this is the last week of classes.  I submitted my last essay today - it was late and I'm very disappointed in myself, but life happens and I was living off of 2 or 3 hour naps, coffee  and energy drinks these last two weeks and working 25+hrs at work.
Very crazy time for me and I'm apartment hunting for a new place for May 1st. Super stressed. ahhh.

Emergency room

I had the weirdest thing happen to me and finally convinced myself something is not right so in an hour after I hand in my essay I am heading to the emergency room.  super nervous - but I have to go.   I'll update once I'm back. 

Love you all ♥